Finding The Perfect One
by Brown-eyed Wolf
Summary: "Once Hermione's breathing had slowed fractionally he placed a firm kiss to her cheek and hugged her gently to his side. "We'll find the perfect one." With a grateful glance in Harry's direction, the pair set off arm-in-arm down Diagon Alley, determined." Harry and Hermione go on an important shopping trip - one problem, Draco can't leave well enough alone. One-shot.


Diagon Alley was ridiculously crowded despite the chill that refused to recede; and Hermione pushed past the milling shoppers frantically in search of her bespectacled friend. She had left his side for all of ten seconds and he'd gone and got himself lost among the crowds, precisely when she needed him. Reaching up on her tiptoes, Hermione scanned around for the familiar mop of unkempt brown hair.

"Oh, _there_ you are Harry!" Hermione all but yelled as she rushed to his side, grabbing both his hands in her own vice grip. "Please, we need to do this together! You can't go wandering off," she scolded, her eyes wild with anxiety.

Harry simply laughed and threw an arm around her slim shoulders. "'Mione, seriously, it'll all be fine. There's nothing to worry about." Once Hermione's breathing had slowed fractionally he placed a firm kiss to her cheek and hugged her to his side. "We'll find the perfect one." With a grateful glance in Harry's direction, the pair set off arm-in-arm down Diagon Alley determinedly. No one even spared a glance at the witch and wizard as they scurried around the shops; the sight of the the two famous wizards together was far too common an occurrence.

It took nearly two hours of scouring and searching and worried-Hermione-ranting before they found it. It was in tiny shop off the main street and obscured by a store specializing in self-drying robes. The joy on Hermione's face was permeable and her smile could warm the coldest of hearts as she laid eyes on the item. Harry felt more like a hero right then than he ever had while he was at Hogwarts or fighting Voldemort - making Hermione happy was worth every single bit of scolding and lecturing and pronunciation-correction she doled out to him. It was quite honestly the main reason he was happy to come out on these shopping trips; though this one was especially important. This one she had been going on and on about for months and they had finally decided last night that tomorrow would be the day to find it. To find the absolutely perfect one.

"Harry, it's just _perfect_! I couldn't imagine anything better for the big day! I love it!" Hermione was nearly strangling the head of the Golden Trio with a hug, but Harry was just grinning smugly, self-satisfied with a job extremely well done. "It's gorgeous and it's going to match everything perfectly!" Harry squeezed Hermione back tenderly, so relieved that they had finally found what she had envisioned - what she had been designing in her head for months. They were so lucky to find almost the exact copy of what she had wanted, and with a few basic transfiguration spells, they could customise it precisely. She had wanted a very specific engraving.

Their embrace was interrupted by someone nearby clearing their throat obnoxiously. "What's going on here, then?" Hermione turned and saw a very pissed-off looking Draco Malfoy, his arms crossed tightly as if he were forcing himself to stay very still lest he actually kill Harry.

"Oh, no! Draco, you _can't_ be here, you just _can't_!" Hermione's face fell instantly, hands massaging her temples as if a headache had suddenly come on.

Harry hid the purchase behind Hermione's back, keeping close. "We'll explain later, Malfoy. You need to leave before-"

"Actually, Potter, I think you'll explain right now why you had your hands all over my wife looking like a smug little-" Draco's wand was out and he was advancing on Harry with every word; his face murderous. He finally paused with his wand pressed uncomfortably hard against Harry's windpipe, Hermione standing halfway between the wizards.

"Draco. Malfoy. Just _what_ are you on about?!" Hermione's voice was a screech, stopping the two wizards in their tracks. Both turned to the witch, wincing at the pitch.

Draco at least had the decency to look a little sheepish as he answered with as much outrage as he could muster under her cold glare. "Scarface had his hands all over you, love. I-I'm defending your honour!" By the way her eyes narrowed into slits, Draco knew he had said the wrong thing; the _complete_ wrong thing.

Hermione wagged an accusing finger in her husband's face; and Draco's wand arm fell back down to his side in defeat at the tirade. "Harry _did not_ have his hands 'all over me'. I was hugging him, because he helped me find the perfect present for Scorpius. _Our son_. Will you never get over the ridiculous idea that Harry is harbouring feelings for me? He's been happily married for 18 years now!" Hermione's outraged face was an inch away from Draco's, and she swatted his hand away as he tried to touch her cheek apologetically.

Harry piped up sourly in the background, "You slipped veritaserum last Christmas into my pumpkin juice just to ask me if I was in love with 'Mione too; Mrs Weasley hasn't ever forgiven me for telling her I actually hated the scarf she made me!" Hermione nodded firmly, her eyes filled with anger at Draco's accusation.

Feeling cornered and outnumbered Draco muttered grumpily, " _I_ could have helped you pick out a present for Scorp." He was pouting and he knew it.

Scolding him again, "No, you, Draco, would have ran and told him exactly what we bought him the moment we got home. You spoil the boy rotten; he's never gotten a gift he hasn't expected in his _life._ Forgive me for wanting to surprise him for once." Hermione spared a glance at the poor silver broomstick with green accents that lay abandoned on the ground; a gift for her not-so-little boy for when he started Hogwarts. He dreamed of being a seeker at Hogwarts just like his father and Uncle Harry.

"So. . . you were just shopping?" Draco's eyes landed on the broomstick and he knew that he _would_ tell Scorpius as soon as he got home; secret be damned - he couldn't lie to his son.

Harry and Hermione all but screamed, "Yes!" at the irrationally jealous wizard, beyond tired of being accused, once again.

What was left of Draco's early anger evaporated completely; in it's place were well known feelings of guilt and anxiety at exactly what Hermione would have in store for him once they both got back home. "Oh. Um- find anything good?" Harry took that as a cue to apparate away before the hour long screaming-fest that was pissed-off-Hermione-Malfoy began.


End file.
